Katie
by gemiinous
Summary: Pidge slowly comes to terms with the idea that gender might not be as cut-and-dry as she thought it was. (a trans pidge story)


Katie

* * *

It had started off innocently enough.

Shiro had been the first one to say it, all those weeks ago in a private moment, just between the two of them. Pidge had been shocked, but in the wake of all of the turbulent emotions she was feeling-homesickness, loss, confusion, anger, relief, an overwhelming fear-she had pushed it aside.

Saying it seemed to make Shiro feel better, too. Some of the ever-present clouding in his eyes faded just slightly, warming and drifting away like clouds on a spring afternoon. So Pidge had tolerated it in those quiet moments, knowing that there was very little she could do about it, and even less that she could do to help chase the shadows from Shiro's mind.

Besides, no one had called her 'Katie' in a long, long time, and after fighting so hard to earn that name for herself, she couldn't justify the twist of unease it brought upon her after nearly a year of disuse.

So Katie remained, quietly and familiar in private, just a moment between two people who had lost so much, and were fighting hard to get it all back.

* * *

"I'm a girl."

As soon as the words left her mouth, Pidge wished she could take them back. They felt too heavy, too terrifying. It felt like coming out all over again to a new family, a new group of people who could reject her like so many had. She continued speaking without focussing on what she was saying, tripping over herself in an attempt to-

To what? To justify her gender? To soften the blow?

Pidge felt sick. Why did she feel like she was lying? Why did it feel like such a big deal? When she was nine years old, she had said much the same thing to her brother, and later to her mother and father. Back then, she had been terrified, yes, but also so sure of what she was saying.

Her resolve didn't wobble then. Why was it now?

The reactions from the team should have made her feel better. They should have eased the months of dysphoria and anxiety, should have made her smile and relax into her own skin once more.

Instead, the casual acceptance-and even incredulity, were they even supposed to believe that she was a boy to begin with?-just left her off balance and whirling.

She smiled shakily, straightening her glasses, and told herself that it was just coming-out anxiety. It was just nerves.

So why did Lance's exclamation of utter shock and dismay make her heart beat so fast in her chest?

* * *

"Hey, uh, Pidge? O-or should I call you Katie?"

Hunk's stuttering self-correction made Pidge wince ever so slightly, and she pasted on a grin as she turned around to face him in the hall, eyebrows raised in question. "You don't have to call me that, Hunk. Pidge is fine."

Hunk sagged in what could only be described as exhausted relief, his hands pausing in their anxious wringing for a moment. "Oh, ah, good. That's good-I-I mean, if you're sure? I know it's hard to respond to a different name, and if Katie makes you more comfortable I really don't mind, I just-"

"Hunk," Pidge cut him off, exasperated beyond belief. She trotted over and patted Hunk's arm, only slightly put off by how she had to reach nearly to shoulder-level to reach it comfortably. "It's fine. I like Pidge. I chose it for a reason."

Just like she had chosen 'Katie' for a reason.

Pidge bit her lip, and barely noticed as Hunk threw an arm around her shoulders and dragged her close, laughing softly.

"Okay. Good to know. Pidge suits you, anyway."

"Yeah.." she mumbled, a million miles away, "So what did you need?"

"I just wanted you to look over this thing I drew up; if I'm right, it could fix that problem we've been having with the cloaking device…"

As Hunk kept talking, Pidge walked alongside him, nodding every so often and trying her best to seem as though she was listening.

Pidge really did suit her, and that scared her more than she would like to admit.

o0o0o0o

It had been two days, and it was becoming increasingly clear that Keith was avoiding her.

Pidge didn't blame him. Not really. It was common knowledge amongst those who lived in the Castle of Lions that Keith took to change like a rabbit to a minefield.

That is to say, not well at all.

After the third time Keith left a meal early just to avoid talking to her, his eyes trained on the ground and his shoulders stiff, Pidge had decided she'd had enough.

It wasn't exactly hard to track a wayward Keith down in the castle, even though the halls were long and winding and there was at least eighty percent of the castle that they had yet to explore. Keith was a creature of habit, after all, and much like Pidge herself, he had a few very distinct places that he would retreat to when he was feeling overwhelmed.

One such place was the training deck, obviously. Much to Pidge's amusement, Keith loved nothing more than to get beat up day after day by the gladiator bots, all under the guise of 'bettering his skills'. Okay, so maybe half of it was that, but Pidge was very sure that the other half had a lot less to do with skills, and lot more to do with beating away excess frustration and the need for Keith to crawl his way out of his own skin.

If, for some reason, Keith was not getting the snot beat out of him on the training deck, he could pretty reliably be found in his room or in the hangar of the Red Lion, lying on his bed or the hangar floor with his feet up on the wall and leaving scuff marks all along the pristine white surface. Pidge had caught him there more than once, humming softly and repetitively to himself while he polished that stupid dagger he thought no one knew about and rocked his heels back and forth along the wall.

She had been swore to secrecy the first time Keith had been walked in on, but after that he didn't seem to mind. Much. She noticed that he didn't hum at all when she was in the room, but that didn't really bother her.

What did bother her was that Keith wasn't on the training deck, with Red, or in his room. He must really be avoiding her, she thought with some bitterness. Was her being a girl really that big of an issue?

A sinking feeling began in her gut, and she tried her best to shake it away as she wracked her brain for any other ideas of where Keith might be.

"Whatcha up to, Pidge-pie?"

Pidge jumped violently when Lance's voice was suddenly just inches from her ear, and she spun around with a shriek that had them both wincing at the volume.

"Lance! Holy fuck, don't just sneak up on me like that!" she griped, clutching at her chest like it would keep her heart from pounding out of it.

Lance, the bastard, just laughed and laughed.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just too easy. But really, Pidgeot. What has you all frowny and wandering the halls at this hour?"

"Lance, it's barely seven in Earth time."

"Time is relative, my friend, and it's saying to me that you're usually holed up in your science-lab of a room right about now." Lance shot back without pause, eyebrow raising in the infuriating way that it always did. "So I'll ask again. What's up?"

Pidge groaned, shoving a hand into her already unmanageable hair and making it even more of a ratsnest than usual. "Quiznack, Lance, you're such a big brother. I'm just looking for Keith, okay? He's not in his room."

Lance's other eyebrow raised up to join the first, a frown pulling at his lips. The serious look gave Pidge pause, and she dropped her hand from her hair, straightening to properly face him.

Maybe Lance would surprise her.

"Have you tried Red's hangar? Or the training deck? That show off always loves the feeling of beating up a few helpless robots."

Or not.

Pidge sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes so hard she felt they would pop out of her skull. "Yes, Lance. I've already tried both of those. I'm not an amateur sleuth, after all."

Lance snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Obviously not, Miss 'Hacked-Into-Iverson's-Personal-Data-Bank-and-Probably-the-CIA-Too'."

"Oh, ha ha." Pidge deadpanned, already sick of the conversation. "Look, if you don't have any information for me, I'm just gonna keep searching."

"Have you tried the laundry room?"

Pidge froze, incredulity and confusing washing over her. "Excuse me?"

Lance smiled, just a hint of superiority in the quirk of his lips that showed the pride he felt in knowing something she didn't. "The laundry room," he repeated, shifting to lean his weight on one hip. The jaunty bastard. "Mullet-head sometimes goes down there after training. He says he likes to wash his own clothes, something about the fabric softener making everything feel weird, but if you ask me he just likes the sound of the washing machines."

That was..surprisingly insightful. Especially for Lance. Keith's autism wasn't a secret, but Pidge was always surprised when Lance managed to say or do something that brought the more private nuances of Keith's personality to light.

"Huh.." she murmured, nodding to herself in thought. "All right, then. Thanks, Lance, I'll try there next!"

"Godspeed, acere!" Lance called after her as she darted down the hall the opposite way she had been headed, fond laughter in his voice.

It wasn't until she had reached the elevator that Pidge realized that Lance had not once asked about Katie.

o0o0o0o

When she finally located Keith, he was just where Lance had said he would be.

Amusingly enough, he was lying back on the floor with his feet propped up on the washing machine, watching the juddering motion make his feet vibrate.

Unable to help herself, Pidge let out a snorting giggle that immediately had Keith swinging his feet down and jolting up to look at her, eyes wide. His embarrassment at being caught doing something considered 'weird' faded upon seeing that it was only Pidge, but then he looked away, a frown tugging at his lips.

Pidge's heart sank.

"Hey, Keith," she said as she wandered closer, and tried not to be too disappointed when all she received was a grunt in return.

They hesitated in steadily increasing tension for a long moment, the rumbling of the washing machine being the only sound in the room, before something in Pidge snapped painfully.

"Look, if you have a problem with me being a girl, just say it, okay?"

She couldn't quite keep the distress from her voice, and it was obvious in the way that Keith's head immediately shot up, his eyes wide.

"What, Pidge, no that's not-"

"Then what is it?" Pidge demanded, shaking her head roughly and nearly sending her glasses-Matt's glasses-flying across the room. "You've been avoiding me ever since I told you all; you can barely even look at me! Do you.." her voice dropped, shaking its way into something small and scared and nothing like her. "Do you have a problem with me being trans?"

"No!" Keith blurted immediately, the volume and intensity of his vice startling them both. He looked up sharply, meeting Pidge's shocked eyes, and swallowed before repeating himself. "No. I don't have a problem with you being..being trans. I'm sorry I made you feel that way. Pidge, I couldn't care less as long as you're happy. I just...I'm just scared."

When it didn't look like he would continue, Pidge spoke up, urging him on.

"Scared?"

Keith nodded, a hint of colour flushing his pale cheeks. "I just..I don't want anything to change between us. Everything finally has a routine here, and everything is finally okay. But now I, I don't know how to act around you. I don't know what might hurt you or..o-or what not to say, or what's right anymore! I don't even know if it's still okay to call you Pidge.."

Her stomach clenched painfully, but still, Pidge smiled in utter relief.

"You moron," she said fondly, then laughed at the affronted look Keith shot her through his messy bangs. "Nothing has to change. I'm still me. I'm still Pidge."

"...You promise?"

"Of course. Dumbass."

* * *

It really had started off innocently enough. A smile, a ruffle of her hair, and a soft voice from Shiro saying, "Good to see you got some rest for once, Katie."

Pidge had smiled, flushing under the praise and attention that Shiro plied her with, and plopped down on the chair beside him at the dining table. She looked up, met Lance's questioning tilt of eyebrows across the table from her, and shrugged.

She didn't notice Allura sitting down at the head of the table, her eyes bright and brimming with excitement.

"Oh, this is wonderful! I've never had many female friends, especially in the castle. When the mice told me you were a girl, I didn't want to believe it, but here you are!"

Surprised and uncomfortable, Pidge lowered her spoon of goo from her mouth, letting it fall back onto her plate with a little 'clack'. "Oh, uh...yeah, I guess. Nothing has really changed, though, so.."

"Nonsense!" Allura chirped, leaning forward and very nearly trailing her long hair in the plate of goo before her. "This is going to be so much fun! I know we don't have much downtime here in the castle, especially with the increase of distress beacons we've been getting recently, but won't it be nice to have a little girl-time? Lance has already shown me how to modify Altean skin products so as not to damage the delicate flesh you Earthlings possess, and I'm sure I have some lovely gowns that would look just gorgeous on your slim figure."

Allura was practically bouncing in her seat, shimmering with excitement, but Pidge could only feel a cold dread building inside her.

"Uh, that's not..that's not really necessary, Princess, I mean…" she coughed, eyes flicking around the table before looking steadfastly down at her lap. Her fingers were laced tightly together. When did that happen? "I'm not really, er..the type of person for a tonne of fancy dresses, and make-up, and all that frilly whats-it-called.."

She felt bad immediately when Allura's excitement deflated out of her like a balloon, a wash of weariness coming over her again. Pidge had forgotten how much work running an entire castle full of ameteur Paladins could be. It was obvious that Allura needed a break, and needed some kind of release from the stress of trying to save the universe, but Pidge couldn't bring herself to agree.

She swallowed, trying to formulate a plan, trying to grasp courage in her hands, but before she could, Allura was speaking again.

"I suppose you're right…" she said, obviously disappointed.

"Well hey, if you ever want someone to practice on , my face is always ready and willing to-" "Lance."

Pidge snickered at how quickly Shiro shot down Lance's attempts at flirtation, watching him fall into a pout and cross his arms on the table. At the head of the table, Allura leaned back with a breathy laugh.

"I suppose you're right," she said again, this time sounding a lot less down spirited. "But if you ever change your mind on having a girls' night, Katie, just let me know and-"

"Don't call me that."

The words were out of her mouth before she could process thinking them, and Pidge froze, barely daring to breathe.

The room had gone silent. Everyone was staring at her.

Pidge sucked in a soft, shuddering breath, and wondered why it didn't seem to help the sudden lightheadedness she felt. "Please don't..call me that."

"Whyever not?" Allura asked, perplexed, "It's your name, isn't it?" There was a twist to her brow, one of pure bemusement, and somehow that hurt even more than the blatant staring that the rest of the team were facing her with.

Though, perhaps, it didn't hurt as much as the heartbroken shock upon Shiro's face.

"I don't like it." Pidge ground out, squeezing her laced hands together so hard that her fingers began to feel numb. What was she saying? She didn't understand, didn't know why she was so upset, why it felt so wrong to hear that name come from the lips of someone who wasn't family, who didn't know the struggle behind it. "So just, don't, okay?"

"But it's what Shiro calls you, it's your name, isn't it?" Allura insisted, starting to appear upset. "Am I wrong?"

"I-I mean, no , but.."

"Allura." Surprisingly, it was Lance who spoke up, a warning lilt to his voice that was completely alien. He was standing, palms flat against the table, and was looking at Allura with a serious frown. "Just drop it. If Pidge doesn't like it, you shouldn't say it."

Stunned, Allura slowly leaned back in her seat, all of the fight draining out of her. Pidge couldn't bring herself to look at her, couldn't bring herself to do anything but sit stock-still and try to breathe.

Being called a girl used to make her happy. Being called 'Katie' used to fill her with fizzy bubbles of happiness and pride and a feeling of right . When had that changed?

It had changed when the Persephone went down, and with it went her brother and father and support system and everything had changed. It had changed when she had to cut off her hair and wear Matt's too-big clothes and pretend-re-evaluate-hide as a boy in the Garrison.

It had changed when Katie Holt died and became Pidge Gunderson, and it had hurt so, so much.

But it still hurt.

"Katie..?"

A soft voice came from her left, and she twitched, startled out of her spiralling thoughts. Pidge met Shiro's eyes, saw the question and hurt and the fog of confusion clouding over, smothering those eyes that had seen too much.

Pidge choked on her guilt. She jolted back.

She's ashamed to say that she ran.

Heedless of her name, of her names, of THAT NAME, being shouted after her, she ran from the hall, nearly bowling a startled Coran over as she did, not stopping for breath until she was far, far away.

Only then did she drop to the floor, curled up by the wall by the cryo-chambers, and finally let herself cry.

* * *

"I thought I'd find you here."

Pidge sniffled, snot blocking her airways and clogging her voice, and curled deeper into herself. "Go away , Lance."

She did not need this right now. She did not need anything right now. She just needed to be quiet, and still, and sort out whatever bullshit was going on inside her head on her own, like she always had. Like she'd had to after Matt had been ripped from her life and she'd been left alone.

Lance was either too stubborn or too dumb to recognize that, however, and after a moment, Pidge felt him settle down on the floor beside her. She peeked out from under her arm, catching a glimpse of his mile-long legs, sprawled in graceless elegance like a pile of clothes hangers pretending to be a human boy.

He didn't say anything, though, and for that Pidge was grateful. They sat in silence for a long moment, the only sound being the quiet hush of the ventilation system and the sniffles of Pidge trying to control her bodily secretions.

Space was so quiet, sometimes.

Pidge didn't startle when Lance shifted beside her, nor did she react when he let out a strained, tired-sounding sigh that didn't suit him at all. She did startle when his bony shoulder was suddenly pressed against her own, a firm but small point of contact between the two of them.

"You know.." Lance began after a long moment, his voice low and shuddering slightly with something Pidge couldn't name. He shifted again. There was a bounce to his left leg, a tremor that Pidge didn't think Lance could control for the life of him. "..For the longest time, I really did think you were like me."

Pidge couldn't help the watery snort that left her at that comment, and her voice was muffled by her arms when she shot back, "Yeah, I know, Lance. You thought I was a guy even though you'd been my pilot for n-nearly a year before all this wackadoodle shit went down."

She felt rather than saw Lance shake his head. It was a violent motion, agitated and familiar, like he was trying to force bees out of his ears. "No. No that's not..that's not what I meant, Pidgeon."

His legs shifted gain, pulling close to his chest, and Pidge felt a flicker of concern wash over her. She looked up, wiping her nose on the already damp sleeve of her jumper and sniffling wetly. For once, Lance didn't appear as though he wanted to keep talking. He was chewing on his lip, his fingers drumming absently on his bent knees, and his eyes were averted to stare down at the ratty white of his shoelaces. At Pidge's questioning hum, however, he continued.

"I don't want to make this about me, Pidge, I'm just..trying to understand. Back in the Garrison, I always thought.." he heaved an explosive sigh, bit down hard on his lip, and spat it out as though the words pained him. "I thought you were transgender."

Pidge blinked. Opened her mouth. Closed it, and blinked again.

"Um..I am transgender?"

Lance shook his head again, his short brown hair whipping about his face so hard that Pidge had a flash of worry for his brain, bouncing around inside his far-too-empty skull.

"Dammit, Pidge," he huffed, a wry smile pulling at his mouth. He laughed, a nervous habit, one more manic than happy, and Pidge sat up fully, blinking the last of her tears away. "And you're supposed to be the smart one."

Affronted, Pidge huffed, "Excuse me?"

"Pidge, I thought you were a trans boy," said Lance, still unable to meet her eyes, still tap-tap-tapping away at his bony knees. "Like me. That's why..that's why I was so shocked when you said you weren't. And that's why I haven't been calling you anything but Pidge, because..really, if you wanted us to call you anything but Pidge, wouldn't you tell us? It's not my place to assume that just cuz you're a girl, you want to be referred to as anything other than what you introduced yourself as. Ya know?"

Dimly, through her surprise, Pidge noted that Lance seemed to have found his love of speaking once more. Before she could say anything, he was continuing, plowing on like a train through the snow.

"A-and I had already assumed that you were a boy, and I was wrong, and it turned out that I was misgendering you the entire time? And I was the only one stupid enough not to get the memo? Hell, Pidge, I just.." Lance swallowed, then finally met Pidge's eyes with his own shockingly blue ones. "I'm so sorry. And I'm sorry about what happened in the dining room. That wasn't fair to you. I should have said something to Allura sooner, then maybe-"

That, Pidge couldn't stand for. Lance apologizing for himself? Sure. But Lance taking the blame for..for whatever the clusterfuck at breakfast had been? No.

"Hold up," Pidge cut in, reaching out and grabbing one of Lance's tapping hands to hold it in her own, nail-bitten and anxiety-scratched one. The other was free to tap away to its heart's content, but the sudden contact still had the desired effect of silencing Lance and getting him to look at her, eyes wide. "First of all, that was not your fault. Come on, Prince Charming, you can't take the blame for everything. Leave some of the angst for everyone else."

Lance actually giggled at that, then immediately covered it up with a manly cough. It was a valiant attempt, but Pidge still filed it away for future blackmail purposes.

"It's not anyone's fault," she continued, her voice going soft and scared. "It's no one's but my own. I..I don't know what I'm doing anymore, Lance. I don't know who I am. I feel like a girl, and I know, I know that I'm not a boy, but...but it feels wrong, somehow. I don't know. I don't understand what I want anymore. Everything is so full of..of space, and aliens, and Voltron a-and dad and Matt and I'm just..so scared. I feel so trapped."

Lance didn't say anything, but when he tugged his hand from Pidge's grip and lifted his arm in invitation, Pidge didn't hesitate to tuck herself against him, nearly chest to chest. Tremulously, she continued.

"I thought the feeling would go away, after I came out to the team. You know? I thought that I could finally just be me and not worry b-but.." Her breath hitched miserably, and she sunk closer into Lance's embrace, missing her brother's hugs so much but taking as much comfort as she could. "..it just got worse . People have been t-treating me differently and calling me 'Katie' and it feels so wrong. I'm not her anymore, Lance. I'm not Katie Holt, and I can't be her, not until my brother and father are safe and n-not until I can see my mom again and hug her a-a-and…"

She broke off, struggling to hold in tears, and pressed her face into the warm fabric of Lance's jacket hood. He smelled like boy, like sweat and whatever cheap soap the castle supplied, but he also smelled familiar. Like face cream and cotton and warm hugs. Like family.

"You'll see them again, Pidge.." Lance said quietly, his voice a dull murmur. His hand was rubbing little circles into her back, soothing and unobtrusive. Familiar. "We'll find them, and we'll win this war, and then we'll all go home. And if you want to be Katie again, you can be."

"But that's the thing, Lance," Pidge breathed, "I don't know if that's what I want. Maybe I'm just stupid. Maybe I should never have started t-transitioning. I don't know what I want, it's all too much, too stifling, there's no HRT in space and I don't want to be anything and I'm so, so scared-"

"Hey. No." Lance said suddenly, shifting his grip around Pidge's shoulders and tugging her upright until she was looking at him. "You know you, Pidge. You know that you're not some faker, and that you did what was right for you. There's no rulebook for being trans, okay? There's no wrong way to do it, and nothing that says your gender can't shift over time."

"B-but-"

"If you say you don't want to be anything, then that's okay. You don't have to be."

Pidge stared, and Lance smiled, and it was filled with so much understanding and patience that she almost started to cry again. Slowly, she nodded, and watched the smile widen even further.

"If you want, you can just be Pidge."

* * *

It was a lot of information to take in, and all of it was heavy, charged with so much emotion that Pidge felt as though she would never remember it all.

But it was good.

Lance could talk for hours if you let him, and Pidge knew first hand how easy it was for him to forget time when he got too interested in a subject. But still, it was nice to hear him talk. It made her forget her anxieties, if only for a moment. By the time Lance had finished explaining the greater majority of the ways a person could be genderqueer or nonbinary, Pidge had a pretty good grasp on it.

There wasn't exactly Google in space, after all.

"So.." she began, hesitating in the break between Lance's rambling explanations, "I could be..agender?"

"If that's what feel right," Lance said promptly, grinning. He looked tired, but also proud. "Listen, don't just decide now. Think about it, for as long as you need to. Maybe you'll sort yourself out without any of this, but..just don't think you're broken, okay?"

"Okay," Pidge nodded, smiling just slightly.

Lance nodded, mimicking her, and then stretched hugely with a keening yawn. "O-oh damn, okay, I don't know what time it is but I am hungry.I'm gonna head to the kitchen and grab some food-goo; you in?"

Pidge smiled, then shook her head. "Maybe later. I'm gonna go back to my room, maybe code a bit, clear my head."

"Sure thing, bud. Maybe take a nap or something, give that head some actual rest, ya know?" Lance stood on wobbly legs, stretched a bit more, then offered Pidge a hand that she ignored with a roll of her eyes.

Standing up on her own, she rocked forward on her heels to punch Lance's shoulder. Then, while he was whining about Paladin-abuse, she squished herself to him in a tight hug.

"Thanks, Lance.." she mumbled, face pressed up against Lance's chest, where she could feel his heart beating much too fast underneath his layers of clothing.

"U-uh..yeah. No problem, Pidge," Lance said awkwardly, patting Pidge's back twice and making her snort out an inelegant giggle. "Anything for my little sib. O-oh, but, one more thing before I buzz off?"

"Yeah?" Pidge asked, releasing Lance and stepping back. She rubbed at her eyes beneath her glasses and tilted her head in question.

Lance smiled, all tight-lips and tired eyes.

"Don't tell anyone about, well.." he gestured vaguely to his chest, and rolled his eyes in feigned nonchalance. "Assuming I'm not completely transparent to the rest of the team. I'll do it eventually, just...not right now, ya know?"

"Yeah." Pidge nodded, returning the smile with a little more energy. "After that pep-talk, I owe you at least four favours. I think one of those could be considered a vow of secrecy. Better than taking cryo-pod duty, after all."

Lance laughed, the tight edges of his smile fading away into something much more innocent.

"I think we can make that work."

* * *

The next morning, when all of Team Voltron were gathered around the table and scraping the last bits of goo from their plates, Pidge made a decision.

They stood up slowly, took a deep breath, and looked around the table at the people who had quickly become like family to them.

"Guys...I have something to say."


End file.
